Page 18 of Relentless

“Hello?” Harper stammered, feeling her anxiety swell.

“Yes,” Clara stated. “I’m here.”

Harper glanced at the ceiling, pulling her knees together with a wince as she steadied herself. “Clara, I need your help.”

“Harper,” Clara replied, sounding hesitant. “You fired me, remember?”

“I—” Harper sighed, feeling her chest tighten. “I just don’t have anyone else.”

There was another long pause before Clara finally broke the tense silence.

“I’ll be right over.”

Harper waited on the kitchen floor for what felt like an eternity. After a while, she decided she had waited long enough.

I can do this.

She stretched her hand upward, taking a firm grasp on the glossy countertop. Using all her strength to hoist herself, she stopped short. The seizing pain sent her back to the hard marble floor with a thud.

“Maybe not,” she groaned. Before she could accept defeat, her phone chimed. Tapping the screen, she watched the security camera footage. The ornate white and gold gate swung wide and Clara’s sedan parked in front of the estate. The camera captured Clara approaching the front door.

Even though she wanted to scream, Harper kept her tone even while she spoke into her phone. “The door is unlocked, Clara. I’m in the kitchen.”

A moment later, Clara came through the door. Covering her mouth with her palm, her eyes widened at the chaotic scene before her.

“Harper,” she gasped.

“Don’t say another word,” Harper snapped. “Just help me up already.”

Clara went to the edge of the spilled wine and stooped to eye level. “You know, Harper,” she responded calmly. “I didn’t have to come at all.”

Harper knew she was at the mercy of the young woman with the audacity to speak her mind. She simply nodded, letting her silence be as much of an apology as she was capable of offering.

Clara leaned forward and grabbed her outstretched hands. The firm grasp on her gashed fingers caused Harper to grimace.She hated being touched at all, even in the best of circumstances.

Clara looked down at her hands at the red smears left by Harper’s wounds. “Is this blood?”

Harper sighed, giving her another nod. She felt hit by a sudden wave of dizziness and steadied herself on the kitchen island.

“All right,” Clara ordered, pointing toward the door, “Let’s go, I’m driving.”

“To where?” Harper scoffed. “The only place I’m going is to bed.” Even as she said it, her legs buckled. Grasping desperately to the tall kitchen island chair, it toppled over and clattered to the ground.

“You’re going to the emergency room,” Clara announced, taking Harper by the arm before she had the opportunity to injure herself again.

Harper was too disoriented to even request changing out of her wine-stained clothes. She allowed Clara to help her to the driveway, eyeing what she considered Clara’s crummy little car.

“Let’s take the Mercedes,” she suggested, then immediately second-guessed. “Wait, no. I don’t want to ruin the seats — all this blood and wine.”

Clara’s mouth gaped. “Well, I don’t want to get blood on my seats either.” With a shake of her head, she mumbled what sounded like a memorized affirmation, “Be the bigger person, Clara.”

She helped Harper into the passenger side of her sedan. Climbing in the driver’s seat, she steered down the long driveway, taking Pacific Coast Highway to the nearest beachside hospital.

“What if—” Harper’s fretful words trailed off.

Clara arched an eyebrow. “What?”

“You know.” Harper confided, “What if someone recognizes me?’

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